


Thread That Binds

by GoldenDaydreams



Series: Necromancy!AU [12]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Coffee Shops, Family Feels, Gen, Necromancy AU, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26145883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDaydreams/pseuds/GoldenDaydreams
Summary: For the first time since he and his brothers were taken by Amanda, Connor meets with his real mom.
Series: Necromancy!AU [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1319477
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	Thread That Binds

**Author's Note:**

> Heavy references to the one-shot Three Little Necromancers. Takes place between chapters 12-13 of Spirits.

The coffee shop had reached the lull after the morning rush. Connor already had one cup of coffee in him, and was working on a second. He had the jitters, unsure if it was caffeine or nerves. While he had brought his tablet with him, he hadn’t been able to work. There were too many things on his mind, too many questions, too many fears. 

When the bell above the door chimed, he glanced over, two young women still chatting with one another as they approached the counter. Uninterested in them, he turned to stare out the window, watched traffic go by. The closer it got to nine-thirty, the more nervous he got. He tapped his heel on the ground, leg bouncing under the table. 

A woman walked by the window, and he tensed. She pushed open the door and he studied her, looking for a trace of familiarity. His heart clenched as she stood just one step inside, looking around. Her eyes locked onto his, and he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. If he were Noah, or even Rhys, his magic would be going haywire, but he had far more control, but he could feel it vibrating within him, trying to react to his volatile emotional state. 

She had dark brown hair that fell in waves around her face, and was cut just above her shoulders. Her eyes were the same dark brown he shared with Rhys. Something about the dark blue sweater was familiar, and maybe she’d had one like it when he’d been younger. She toyed with the ends of her scarf as she took a step toward him. “Connor?”

He stayed seated, afraid that he stood she might want to hug him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted that. His grip on his coffee mug tightened. “Kat.” 

It set a tone, and his jaw clenched when he saw her frown a little. She nodded. “I’m just going to,” she pointed toward the counter. “You want anything else?”

He shook his head, his tongue feeling too heavy for words. He watched as she walked to the counter, ordered, paid. A part of him wished at least one of his brothers had decided to come with him, but Rhys still hadn’t even read her letter, and Noah remained on the fence as to whether or not he wanted to speak with her. 

She returned with a cup of green tea, and a blueberry scone, and sat down across from him. 

They stared at each other for a few seconds before her lip quivered, and she looked down at her plate. He rubbed his thumb and index finger together, a little smoky magic curling around his fingertips in lazy, controlled figure eights. 

“You look so much like your father,” she said, pulling a small triangular piece from the scone, but didn’t eat it. “Except the eyes… it was only Noah who got his eyes.”

“I need to establish some ground rules for this,” Connor said. She looked up at him, nodded. “I’m not answering questions about my brothers. It’s not my place. If they wish to speak to you, they will reach out. Otherwise, I will not discuss them.” 

“But they’re with you, right?” She stared, and he remained silent. “Please, you can at least give me that. Tell me they aren’t still with Amanda.”

“They’re with me, and we will not discuss them further.”

“Okay.” She pulled apart the small section she’d already ripped off the scone. “Thank you.” 

He sipped on his coffee, more to make himself look calm rather than from any desire to actually have it. 

She added some sugar to her tea. “I’m sure you have questions.” 

He did. Many. He decided to test the waters, he had some questions that he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear the answers to. “What do you do for work?”

It seemed a simple enough question, but she stalled in answering it, stirring her tea. “I work at a salon. I just run the desk.” 

“Do you like it?” He felt himself floundering, he’d never had trouble with making conversation before. He was confident, he knew he was well spoken, educated, personable, and none of that mattered in the face of his mother. 

She gave a half shrug. “The stylists are nice.” She touched her hair. “Lydia insisted on doing my hair when I told her I was meeting with you.”

“It looks nice.”

“Thanks.”

The entire conversation was awkward, stilted. There was history between them but so long ago, the thread that bound them so thin, so easy to snap. Maybe it already had, he mused, maybe this was an attempt at tying those pieces together. 

The thought of her starting a new family, falling in love, having other children made him feel ill, but it had been one of the driving factors that made him want to speak with her. The idea that he had siblings he didn’t know wouldn’t leave him alone.

She deserved a normal happy life, something that has been taken by having a witch for a husband, and three little necromancers to raise when he was gone. He hoped she’d led a good, happy life since they’d been taken by witch laws, but that wish also felt like a betrayal. He remembered Rhys staring out the windows, and Noah crying out for her at night. As it turned out, understanding the situation didn’t make it any easier to reconcile.

“Did you… ever remarry?” 

Her fingers froze on her scone, and she went back to picking it apart. “Never married in the first place. Not that Mic and I didn’t love each other. We did, very much so. We didn’t see much point of it, neither of us had family pressures since Mic’s had all passed and mine… more or less disowned me for—” 

She may have trailed off, but Connor had a good guess. “Being with a witch?”

She nodded. “We didn’t need to be married anyway. It wouldn’t have changed anything between us. We loved each other. We had three beautiful boys. We had a nice home, just big enough for the five of us.” She spoke with such longing that his heart clenched. “I never married after Mic.” 

“Am I right in assuming that I don’t have any other siblings out there?”

Her eyes welled up with tears and she quickly looked down, shaking her head. “You think—you think after having you three ripped out of my life that I could just—that I could—” she trailed off, and quickly swiped the back of her hand over her eyes. 

He felt bad for even asking. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“You deserve answers,” she said. “I didn’t marry, I haven’t had a serious relationship after your father, and no, you don’t have any other siblings.”

“Maybe you should ask me some questions,” Connor said, feeling severely off balance. 

“I already know what you do for work,” she admitted sheepishly. “The internet is a powerful thing. It must be nice though, to be your own boss.”

He sighed. “Well, my clients are technically my bosses, and some are easier to deal with than others.” He told her of a few events that had nearly ended catastrophically only to be saved quite literally by duct tape, and an eighteen gallon jug of fuchsia glitter just to make her laugh. 

She stirred her tea. “Are you married?” 

He wondered what answer she expected. He did wear a ring on his finger. Gavin had wanted to buy him one once they were engaged but Connor had a small collection of rings already, and didn’t think spending the money was worth it. Their finances were already blended, and he had plans on buying more grimoires. Gavin had argued about it, but ultimately relented as long as he got to pick the one Connor would take to wearing all the time. 

The ring had a chunk of black tourmaline settled in silver. _”If I’m your North star—” Gavin had said, referring to the set of his own ring, “—than you’re my whole damn night sky.”_

He twisted the ring around his finger, and had the brief worry that she might have a problem with his fiance being a man. He rubbed his thumb over the stone, smiled a little thinking of Gavin, his magic twirling around the ring, hugging it. On the other side of his concerns, he worried she might be excited about the engagement, and want to be in attendance of the wedding. 

His brothers would be at his side, as they always had been, and so far they’d both decided to keep their distance from Kat. He would chose his brothers over her—he’d always chosen his brothers over everyone, and very luckily had never had to choose between them and Gavin.

“You don’t have to answer things you don’t want to,” she whispered. 

Lying felt wrong. If he had to create new boundaries later, so be it, but he was proud to be with Gavin and wouldn’t hide it. 

“Engaged. His name is Gavin.” 

She smiled. “I’m happy for you.” She finally ate a tiny morsel of the scone. “Is he a witch too?”

Connor shook his head. “Plain-blood.” 

“And your coven is okay with that?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She picked a little piece from her scone, didn’t eat it, the scone reduced by a quarter, all crumbs on the plate. “What’s he like? Or is he off limits to talk about?”

It was a topic he could actually talk about. Gavin had offered to come with him, but Connor felt it was something he needed to do alone. “He’s a detective. I met him while assisting on a case.” He didn’t dare go into details, afraid of misstepping, telling a little too much. He didn’t like where their relationship had started, reminded him too much of the basement, of the blood and violent death, of the magic and power he’d wielded, playing god and breaking laws. Gavin was good, even then Connor had cared so deeply for him. “Coven’s need a home. Gavin gave me that.”

“I hope I get the chance to meet him one day, he clearly makes you very happy.” 

“He does.” 

The settled into silence again, a little less awkwardly than before. 

“What do you do for fun?” she asked. “Hobbies?”

He let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Who has time? I… I watch movies sometimes. Gavin occasionally drags me out to small music events, festivals on the waterfront, or little bars on Friday nights.” He poked at the little cut on his jaw from when he’d nicked himself shaving as he thought. He couldn’t think of any real hobby. “I read.” By which he meant grimoires, and not for fun at all, but without details it made him sound a little more like a normal person, and less pathetic workaholic who wouldn’t leave the kitchen island for more than work if it weren’t for his fiance. 

If Noah weren’t in such a dire state, what would he do for fun? Had he ever had normal hobbies? Thinking back to his time with Amanda, his life had been sculpted, he had duties, studies, jobs. He quietly fell in line, and did his best to manipulate the life they’d been given, to keep his brothers out of trouble, to plan for the future. 

He had goals, not hobbies. 

He had too many responsibilities to be any fun. Between coven duties, work, and trying to find a way to save his brother, he barely had time for Gavin. 

“What about you?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t dig too much into his barely existing hobbies. 

“I flip furniture.”

“Really!”

She shrugged. “It’s time consuming, I enjoy it, I make a bit of extra cash on it. I recently did a dresser set for a little girl’s bedroom, she loves purple flowers so I painted purple flowers on every drawer.” 

It sounded like something Noah would like. He kept his lips firmly shut. It was hard not to talk about his siblings when they were so close.

“I also play way too many puzzle games on my phone,” she said like it was a secret. “It’s a problem.”

He laughed. Rhys had been heavily addicted to Candy Crush for six months before his attention to it finally started to wane. 

She ate a bit of the scone, and Connor finished his coffee. Probably for the best if he didn’t have anymore, he was having a hard time sitting still as is. 

Connor struggled for things to say, to ask, things that were safe, but there were other questions, ones on the tip of his tongue. 

“Do you have any pictures of—” he bit the tip of his tongue. Was it fair to say ‘dad’ when he refused to call her ‘mom’? “Of Mic?” 

She took a deep breath. “Yes. Not with me, but at the house. I have a few photo albums you might want to take a look at. Another time?” She looked so hopeful that this wouldn’t be the last she saw of him. 

He nodded. “Yeah, okay.” 

She smiled, crinkling the crows feet around her eyes. 

“Can you tell me what was he like? I don’t remember much.” 

She pulled her tea closer, holding the mug in both hands. “Wildly kind.” She sighed. “That probably doesn’t make sense, but it’s how I always thought of him. Wildly kind, wildly affectionate, I think… I think he just wanted to be different from his mother, to prove that he could.”

“Was his house mother his actual mother?”

“He wasn’t part of a coven. His mother was a registered independent, but I guess the council didn’t check in much, she was an eight. Mic didn’t tell me much, but the older he got, the worse she was, her power or… those things in the darkness, they… well, you know.”

He nodded. He did know. He couldn’t help but think of his brother, growing older, his power growing stronger, Connor’s power nearly not enough to keep the balance. “Was Mic ever a part of a coven?” 

“No. He lived with his mother, and then he lived with me.” 

She’d looked so happy talking about him before. “Tell me more about him?”

“When we were younger he would buy flowers and just hand them out to people to see them smile. He’d put coins in parking meters that were almost running out. He’d compliment people whenever he could.” She smiled sadly. “I was scared when I got pregnant, it was such a big change. I didn’t know if we could we handle a baby. Was pregnancy different if your child would inherit magic? Mic assured me everything would be fine, he was thrilled. And then he found out we were having twins.”

“Got nervous then?” 

“No, even more excited. Painted the nursery himself, wouldn’t let me near it, afraid of the paint fumes bothering me. He always took such good care of me, doting really. Whenever I’d crave a snack, he’d walk to the convenience store and buy candies or ice cream. Once you were born, he was first out of bed when one of you started crying.” 

“When… did things get bad?” He didn’t want to ask, but he knew they had, and he wondered if there was anything he could learn about his father’s circumstances that he could use to help Noah. 

“After Noah was born, or maybe a little before. He’d been slowly losing grips on his power. I didn’t understand it, he didn’t explain much to me beyond the basics. Maybe he thought it would scare me, would turn me away from him. It wouldn’t have, it never did, not even when it got truly bad.” 

“What do you mean by truly bad?”

She stared at him, tears in her eyes, and he wondered if she would answer. “Shadows moving, losing sleep, talking to spirits he either didn’t want to, or couldn’t send away. He’d sleepwalk. Sometimes he’d talk in his sleep. I think—” she shook her head. 

He reached out, touched her hand. “What is it?”

“I think he knew he was going to die.” Her breath caught, choking down a sob. “He knew. And he was scared.”

He couldn’t help but think of Noah, who seemed casual with the concept of death, even ready to embrace it sometimes. He couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Noah was more scared than he seemed.

She looked around and leaned closer. “Near the end, something… something was sitting on his chest, hand on his throat, burning him. I-I couldn’t do anything, it—” she pulled up her sleeve and his breath caught at the sight of the old burn scar. “You banished it. Do you remember?” 

“Vaguely.” He couldn’t stop staring, a physical manifestation strong enough to harm. Concern for his coven doubled. “I thought it was just a bad dream, not real.” 

“It was real,” she said. “Noah’s almost the same age Mic was when he…”

He knew what she was saying. He knew that the timer on his brother’s life was running low. “I’m doing what I can.” _And I’m terrified it isn’t going to be enough._

She grabbed his hand, squeezed. “I know you are, but if you can’t… it won’t be your fault.” 

His fingertips trembled, and she didn’t pull away from the magic that spilled from his hands. “Was that the worst of it?”

“No, please, I don’t want to talk about this Connor. I-I can’t. It won’t change anything. It’ll just bring up more pain. Haven’t we had enough?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” she said. “From Mic’s magic, from my own ignorance. As much as I hated Amanda for taking you three from me… she taught you boys, took care of you, right?” 

Words got caught in his throat, and he pulled his magic back under rigid control at the mention of his former house mother. 

“Connor?” 

What could he say that wouldn’t be yet another knife to her heart? Apparently his silence said enough. 

“I’m sorry.” She looked ready to cry again, and he couldn’t stand it. 

“You tried to get help, and I know you didn’t understand what that would mean. It’s okay, Mom.” 

She actively started crying at that, enough that they were starting to draw attention. He stood, and she startled at the motion, looking up at him. A little nervously he held his arms open. She stood up, and walked into his embrace, still sniffling. She held him tight, like she’d lose him again if she let go. 

“It’s all behind us now,” he murmured. “We’re going to be fine."


End file.
